


One King

by soy_em



Series: Two queens, one king [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cliche, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, M/M, Season/Series 01, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 22:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12219798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soy_em/pseuds/soy_em
Summary: Dean's confusing porn with reality again, and he's really got to stop.ORWhat happens when the Winchesters are forced to share a bed.





	One King

**Author's Note:**

> For the Wincest Writing Challenge Prompt: Richard Silken
> 
> _I swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth._

It doesn’t work. 

Dean knows he has a good ass. He’s been told so by more people than he can count - most of those comments very much unwelcome at the time but enough to leave him in happy confidence that his backside is pleasing to people.

But dropping his pants and showing it off hasn’t worked. Sam remains as utterly indifferent to Dean (and his ass) as he always seems to be. 

Dean tips his head back in the shower and shakes his head. He doesn’t know what to do any more; maybe he should just give up. Water pounds down over his head; the excellent pressure might turn out to be the only good thing about this motel, and Dean finally starts to thaw out, tingles radiating from his fingers and toes as he warms up. He forces himself not to linger; Sam needs this bliss as much as he does.

When he leaves the bathroom, he’s confronted with the kingsize bed. It’s like something out of a porno, he thinks; two hot guys forced to share a bed and huddle together for warmth. In the porn world, it would only end one way, even if the men were brothers; but as Sam’s said many times, he shouldn’t confuse reality and porn. The likelihood of him and Sam getting it on tonight is miniscule. He needs to resign himself to that. 

He hops into bed and scoots to one side, leaving enough space for his brother. When he finally emerges from the shower, Sam looks utterly horrified at the thought of sharing with Dean, and that’s more than enough to crush all of Dean’s hopes.

Rolling over, Dean does what Winchesters do best, and thinks about something else until he falls asleep.

***

Waking in the middle of the night, Dean is surrounded by a warmth and rightness that he hasn’t felt in over four years. Sam is not just close, Sam is within touching distance, within breathing distance, within kissing distance and that’s just exactly where he should be. Dean luxuriates for a moment, Sam’s familiar breath hitting his cheek and his little almost-snores tickling Dean’s ears. 

There’s enough dim artificial light trickling through the thin motel curtains for Dean to see his brother. Sam looks so peaceful asleep, as if the trials of the past few months have washed away; the frown on his forehead smoothed out and his lips gently parted. He’s beautiful like this too, of course, he’s always beautiful; but Dean is struck with how relaxed he looks. It highlights the strain Sam carries during the day, the grief of losing Jess mixing with the guilt of not being able to find their Dad, and it’s only now that it’s gone that Dean is seeing the impact.

Dean is awash with love in that moment; the love he’s felt all his life, from the moment the tiny bundle was first placed in his arms, supported carefully by a soft embrace he can barely remember; right through to the desperate hug at a wet bus stop as Sam set off into the unknown, and most recently felt through the crash of Sam’s body fighting against him in a dark room, before a girl in tiny pyjamas flicked on the lights. 

Jess. Dean had been stunned when he saw her; not just because she was hot ( _so hot, well done Sammy),_ but because it was just a little bit like looking into a mirror. Light hair, luminous eyes, freckles; Dean had seen himself and hoped. And there’s the looks, sometimes; the way Sam’s eyes follow him; the frown that deepens across Sam’s forehead as he watches Dean flirt; the almost painful intensity between them when they avoid talking about Stanford. Just occasionally, Dean wonders if Sam feels the same way.

But Sam’s grief over Jess has shown his brother’s true feelings and Dean’s been forced to let go of that.

Except he hasn’t really. Twisting onto his side carefully, he looks at his brother again and his heart clenches. There is literally nothing he wouldn’t do for this boy, even give him up to college and a better life. But Sammy’s back now and all Dean’s feelings, ruthlessly suppressed over the past four years, have come roaring back. Dean wants everything of Sam; every moment, every thought, every feeling and every breath of Sam is important to Dean; he wants to know them, understand them, share them all. 

It’s not healthy - he’s known that since he was nine and found Sam’s first day at school harder than his brother; since he was fourteen and wanted to fight all Sam’s battles for him; since he was nineteen and saw Sam’s long legs in a different light for the first time. But he wants, and he can’t help himself, and he needs to realise it’s never going away and make his peace with that. It’s just harder at times like this, when it would be so easy to reach across the bed and kiss Sam into wakefulness.

Trying to regain control of his feelings, he rolls back the other way and shuts his eyes firmly. As Sam said, the sooner he goes to sleep, the sooner it will be morning and he can find them a motel with two beds.

***

It’s light when Dean wakes again, his body still heavy with sleep. Trying to move, he realises that he can’t; he’s pinned by a heavy, warm weight across his waist and legs. Blinking sleepily through his feeling of contentment, it takes him a while to realise it’s Sam. His brother has pressed up against him in the night, sprawling across Dean and most of the bed, so that Dean is almost hanging off the edge.

 _Fucking sasquatch_ , he thinks, and tries to shift into a safer position. As he moves, he becomes aware of two very concerning issues: one, that he himself is hard, Sam’s leg pressing warm against his morning wood; and two, that Sam’s even harder, a small wet patch forming against Dean’s hip where Sam’s slotted tight against him.

Shame flushes through Dean’s body. He’s never been a prude about sex, and he’s been aware of his feelings for Sam for years, but still; finding himself aroused by his baby brother’s warm, sleeping, unaware body gives him the kind of guilt trip he could do without. Its drowned out almost immediately though by a different kind of heat; Sam is hard against him, and although it’s probably just a natural morning reaction, or even a dream about a different warm body, Dean still can’t control his visceral reaction.

He must unknowingly tense his body, because suddenly Sam’s squirming against him, waking up. Dean’s still too sleep fogged to react fast enough; before he can think to move, Sam’s awake, body going stiff beside him.

“Dean?” Sam asks, voice quiet. He sounds almost fearful. “Dean, I’m so sorry.” It takes Dean a moment to realise Sam’s trying to extricate himself from the tangle of their limbs, and yet more time passes before Dean’s aware that he’s making that impossible by not moving his leg.

“Dean,” Sam says, voice insistent and more high pitched than normal, a slight edge of panic creeping in. “I need to get up.” 

Dean will never know what possesses him to take the risk, but he rolls so they’re face to face, legs still caught up, and rocks his hips forwards. He can feel the hard press of Sam’s cock against his own through their boxers, and the puff of air on his face as Sam gasps, his hands clutching tight onto Dean’s arms. There’s no rejection, so Dean does it again, rolling his hips fluidly into Sam’s, watching his brother’s mouth go slack with pleasure. 

“Sammy?” he asks, putting as much emotion as possible behind that one word in the hope of not having to talk about his feelings in more detail. 

“Yes, Dean,” Sam agrees fervently, and that’s enough for Dean to lean in and seal his mouth onto Sam’s in a deep, intense kiss. Sam should taste sour but his mouth is the sweetest thing Dean’s ever experienced. It doesn’t take long for them to start rocking against each other, Sam’s leg curling over Dean’s hip as if to trap him in place and never let him go. Dean winds his arms around Sam’s neck, pulling their heads together so that they’re sharing every tiny gasp and moan between them, no space for the outside world. He knows he should get his hand down between them and pull their boxers down at least, so that they’re skin on skin; but he’s wanted this for so long that he’s not going to have time. Everything feels so good, and he’s so sleep-fogged that he can feel his orgasm rocketing through his veins far faster than he’d like; his body speeding up and toes curling. But Sam’s in no better state, his ever-changing eyes focused on Dean’s as their noses brush together. 

Sam bites down hard on his own lip, head tipping back as he comes while he’s riding Dean’s leg; and the sight is enough to end things for Dean too. He comes with a gasp, forehead knocking against his brothers as they both try to draw in a breath. It’s only a second before Sam’s kissing him again, uncoordinated but so eager, licking into Dean’s mouth as if he never wants it to end. 

They make out lazily for a while, neither caring about the mess in their boxers. Dean could stay here forever, happy to ignore the consequences of their morning. Rain is still pounding against the windows and they’re probably stuck here for the day anyway, he thinks. 

Eventually, though, Sam pulls back. He slides to the edge of the bed without a word, and Dean feels his heart drop. The disgust he’s been expecting all morning is obviously kicking in and Sam wants to get away from him. It’s going to break his heart; he’s lived through Sam’s rejection once, and survived, just barely. He doesn’t think he can do it again. 

Pushing himself out of the bed, he fumbles for his jeans, pulling them up harshly and disregarding the mess in his boxers. He’ll sort it out at the first service station. Casting around, he sees his t-shirt on the other side of the room and strides across to pick it up.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice is small and confused; he’s standing in the bathroom door, still in just his boxers and a t-shirt. Looking incredibly young, Sam visibly takes a deep breath. “I get it if you want to leave, Dean, I’m disgusting. But wait until it’s safe to drive again, at least.” Sam turns away. “I can wait in the bathroom. Or go to reception.”

Dean’s head actually spins for a minute, dizziness threatening to send him to the floor. Sam thinks _he’s_ disgusting? Dean’s the one who’s corrupted his little brother. Worse, Sam thinks Dean is leaving him and he’s upset?

It all takes Dean a minute to process, and in that time Sam’s gone back into the bathroom. Dean can see him, perched on the edge of the grimy bath, cradling his head in his hands. Dean hates stuff like this, hates having to work through his emotions, but this is _Sam_ ; it will be worth it. He approaches his brother softly, still-bare feet making no noise as he crouches down in front of his brother.

“Sammy,” he begins. “I don’t think you’re disgusting.” He pauses. “I am, but not you. You’re perfect.” 

Sam’s eyes peek through his hands. “I’m disgusting. I made you do that.”

“I made _you_ do that,” Dean counters. “I’m the big brother.”

There’s an interminable moment of silence. Sam’s the first to break it, taking the risk that Dean can’t quite bring himself to chance. “Did you want that?” he asks softly, and Dean nods emphatically, heart in his mouth. 

“Oh thank fuck,” Sam breathes, and collapses forwards into Dean’s arms. Dean barely catches them in time, lowering them both to the cold bathroom floor. Sam’s peppering kisses against his face and it takes Dean a moment to get him to stop, framing Sam’s face with his hands.

“I take it you did too?” he asks, voice a little dry, and this time its Sam who nods, laughing.

“Yes, yes.” They’re kissing again, messy kisses across each other’s faces as they miss their mouths, Sam’s teeth nipping at his lips, his ears, his neck. Dean’s laughing too, happiness bubbling out of him. Eventually their mouths reconnect properly and Dean’s swallowing down Sam’s joy alongside his moans, his heart beating sure and fast where it’s pressed up against Sam’s, right where it should be.

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out my [Tumblr](http://soy-em.tumblr.com/).


End file.
